


Shotgunning

by luciolebisou (orphan_account)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/luciolebisou
Summary: He must have been quiet for too long, because he could hear Nathan clearing his throat to speak up again. “You have been high before, haven’t you?” he asked, exhaling more smoke through his nose.“Yes,” Warren said quickly, lying through his teeth. He had never been high, or smoked a cigarette, or drank excessively. If it took that much to make Nathan think he was interesting, though, he’d do all three.





	Shotgunning

**Author's Note:**

> dedicating this sweet lil thing to natalie, the only other person i know who enjoys screaming over grahamscott as much as i do.

Warren had never been a huge fan of parties. Vortex Club parties, to be more specific.

His own definition of a party consisted of curling up in his dorm, making a shoddy blanket fort and binge-watching all of the pirated movies in his collection. Being surrounded by tipsy, stumbling teenagers was not his first idea of fun. It was just another chance for him to be pushed around by the club members or to stand awkwardly in a corner, pretending to scroll through his phone to pass the time.

Yet, there he was, doing just that.

Warren had found himself pressed up against a wall, shrinking back to avoid dancers and the occasional grinding couple. The pulsing music that echoed around the indoor pool made his ears ring, and he looked down at the cheap beer that swirled inside his red solo cup. Max, with Chloe in tow, had persuaded him to go out for the night, because apparently, hibernating inside his dorm all the time wasn’t healthy. Instead of sticking together, they had ditched him to fend for himself inside of Blackwell’s booze-fueled nightmare bash. So much for hanging out together, he thought.

He took a sip of the drink before gagging at the taste and forcing it down, peering through the crowds for a glimpse of blue hair. Where had they wandered off to? They were the entire reason he came. Every text and call had gone unanswered. Sighing, he shoved a hand into his pocket, praying they’d eventually come back to rescue him. If he had just listened to his gut and stayed in, he wouldn’t look like the loser that everyone had made him out to be.

Just as he was about to glance at the time, Warren was bumped into, causing him to lose the grip on his cup. The cold beer went flying, slipping out of his hands and spilling all over his t-shirt.

Great. Just great.

Warren yelped in disgust, wrinkling his nose and frantically looking around for the culprit. Whoever had backed into him was now long gone, though. All he could see was a sea of partygoers, obscured by the strobe lights that bounced off the walls. They were lucky he hadn’t seen them—not that he would have done much to defend himself, anyway. He never did.

He sniffed at the stain on his shirt and recoiled before storming off towards the locker rooms, hoping he could scrounge up a sweatshirt or something that he had left behind. There was no way he was going to willingly walk around smelling like Coors for the rest of the night.

He carefully squeezed through the mobs of people, dodging an elbow to the face and nearly running straight into Stella, who seemed just as overwhelmed as he did. “Hey!” he called out, his voice drowned out by roaring laughter and the beat of the obnoxious song that the DJ was playing. “Do you know where Max is? I’ve been looking all over for her!”

Stella stared for a few seconds, clearly straining to hear him. Warren guessed that she was attempting to read his lips. Carrying on a normal conversation with anyone was inane at this point. “You just missed her!” she yelled back, motioning to the main doors of the pool. “I saw her and her friend leave a few minutes ago!”

Just as he had suspected. Without another word, he shouldered his way past her, biting the inside of his cheek. He lazily tossed his now-empty cup towards a trash bin, only for it to miss the target. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor, next to a pile of other cups that had met the same fate.

Had Max and Chloe forgotten about him that easily? He knew he had a reputation for being invisible, but for them to just up and leave without saying anything? It hurt more than he wanted to admit. Warren tried to shake it off, though the disappointment leered over him as he shuffled his way to the lockers.

All he needed was a new shirt, and then he was going to get the hell out of there. This was enough partying for a lifetime.

He pushed open the door to the showers and stalls, expecting it to be a minefield of puking drunks and clothes carelessly tossed onto the floors. If you were going to sex it up at a Vortex party (something a sane person would never do), this was the most popular place for it to happen. Instead, there was only an eerie silence. Aside from the occasional beams of colored light that filtered in from under the door, it was pitch black.

Weird. Usually the lockers were just as chaotic as the main floor. He shrugged it off and made a beeline for his row, quickly pulling off his damp shirt. He fumbled around in his open locker for something, anything, to cover up with. A towel. Old homework he had accidentally left behind. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Damn it all.

“The fuck are you doing in here?” a voice snarked from behind, causing him to startle. “Giving me a striptease?”

Warren went pale, his muscles tensed. He thought he had been alone this whole time. He felt someone’s gaze singe the nape of his neck, and he turned sharply, squinting into the shadows. Several feet away was Nathan Prescott, sitting on the dirty tile floor, the soft glow of a lit joint hanging on his lips.

“No! No. No, I’m just…” Warren clamored, his face flushing a shade of pink. He gestured vaguely to the balled-up shirt in his hands, slipping nonsensically on his words. “Beer.”

Nathan scoffed, taking a long drag from his joint. “Uh huh. Right,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing.

Warren figured that Nathan wanted him to leave, but he stayed rooted to the spot, unflinching. It was out of character to see the Vortex Club’s most infamous member isolating himself in the dark. Victoria and the others were probably wondering where he was. He had thrown this party, after all.

“What are you doing in here all alone? You’re...high,” he stated plainly, watching his thin trail of smoke twist and curl through the air. The earthy stench of it made his stomach turn.

“Obviously. You’re staring at me like you’ve never been high yourself. Get off my back,” Nathan shot back defensively, furrowing his brow. “And maybe I like being alone sometimes. What’s it to you?”

Warren fell silent as he fidgeted with his hands. This was a reminder of why he didn’t put too much effort into a friendship with him. Every smile he had sent to Nathan in the hallways had been met with a backhanded insult, or an occasional punch if he was especially unlucky. It didn’t help that he had been secretly pining for him for a couple months now. Of all people to be infatuated with, it just had to be the person who disliked him most.

Then again, Nathan disliked everyone. It seemed like he enjoyed pushing people away just so they could crawl back to stroke his ego. He was a sick enigma.

Warren craved him.

He must have been quiet for too long, because he could hear Nathan clearing his throat to speak up again. “You _have_ been high before, haven’t you?” he asked, exhaling more smoke through his nose.

“Yes,” Warren said quickly, lying through his teeth. He had never been high, or smoked a cigarette, or drank excessively. If it took that much to make Nathan think he was interesting, though, he’d do all three.

Nathan didn’t look convinced in the slightest. He thought he saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a stupid smirk, and Warren felt that familiar warm, dizzy feeling wash over him. Seeing him smile was rare enough already, but to make him smile personally? That was almost an impossible feat.

“You look fucking dumb. Are you just going to stand around shirtless?” Nathan snorted after a moment, crossing his arms and bringing a knee up to his chest.

His words attempted to cut deep, but Warren was unfazed after the abuse that had been thrown at him in the past. He felt his face burn hot again at the reminder of standing in front of him half-naked, and he swallowed hard, trying to stifle the words that threatened to spill out of him.

“Well, I’d sit next to you and look dumb, but the floors here are gross,” he countered, walking closer to him. “Seriously. You’ll probably die just from touching them.”

“There are worse things.”

Warren blinked several times, caught off guard by the comment. Slowly, he walked over to where Nathan was sitting and lowered himself down, careful to leave space between them. It seemed like the tension in the room was palpable, as if he could reach out and slice it with a knife.

He was sitting next to the person who had scrawled _faggot_ onto the slate next to his dorm. He should have hated him. As much as he tried to muster up a distaste for Nathan, Warren always came back to the fantasy of kissing him, touching him, loving him. A prayer at a private altar. A hit to quell his urges. If he was an addict, Nathan Prescott was his gateway drug.

“Sometimes I don’t understand you,” Warren blurted out, prying his eyes away from the boy next to him. He immediately regretted the words after they left his mouth, and he tried to backpedal. “I mean, I just...don’t understand the way you work. Or why you feel the need to be an dick to everyone.”

Nathan shot him a dagger-sharp glare, his face wrinkled up in a scowl. “No one does. And I am _not_ a dick.”

“Why? You have everything. Everyone wants to be you or be friends with you,” Warrren scoffed in disbelief. “You basically own Blackwell. I’d kill for that.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this school doesn’t actually like me,” Nathan retorted curtly. He jabbed a finger at the graffiti that hung over their heads. The words _KILL THE PRESCOTTS_ had been crudely scribbled into the wall with black ink. “Everyone just wants to be friends with me for the money, or the parties, or whatever the fuck. No one gets it. Especially not you.”

Warren’s face fell, and he started to stammer an apology. He hadn’t imagined what it would be like to have the school constantly rake your name through the mud behind your back while also leeching off of your popularity. There was more to Nathan than his temper and good looks, hidden underneath that coarse personality of his.

Hesitantly, Warren scooted closer, and he mustered up the courage to break the sanctity of their silence. “May I?” he asked, nodding towards the joint.

Nathan took another draw before snidely passing it over. “Knock yourself out, I guess,” he muttered. Warren thanked the heavens that Nathan wasn’t sober. He had a feeling that he’d be much more angry if he was. He could handle pissed-off, high Nathan.

Gingerly taking it between his fingers, Warren looked at it fearfully, as though it would scald his hand at any moment. He instantly knew he shouldn’t have said anything. He couldn’t give it back to him now. Nathan would think he was a coward, and the last thing he needed was his crush looking down on him for not having a smoke. Karma was, truly, a pain in the ass.

He put it to his mouth, reveling in the fact that he was sticking his lips where Nathan’s had just been. The paper was wet with his saliva, and he sucked on it, wanting nothing more than to taste him and not the weed. As he breathed it in, though, the shock of the smoke in his mouth made him sputter. He inhaled violently, trying to swallow it down. It burned his throat. His eyes were full of tears. His lungs were screaming.

And then, from next to him, a chuckle. A laugh.

Thumping a fist on his chest as he continued to choke, Warren glanced over at Nathan between sharp, hacking coughs. He was grinning wildly.

“Dude. Oh my god. You should see your goddamn face right now,” Nathan sneered.

“Screw...you,” Warren rasped, wiping the tears from his eyes. If he hadn’t been gasping for air, he would’ve been fawning over the way Nathan’s eyes were sparkling. He was so volatile. Angry one second and happy the next. “I’ve never smoked before.”

“No shit. You did it all wrong.” Nathan grabbed the joint from out of his hands and leaned in closer. “You’re supposed to breathe it in slowly, dumbass.” As Nathan tapped the end of it, Warren could see the ashes of burnt paper falling to the floor, speckled with tiny embers that had yet to be stomped out. “Have you, uh, ever heard of shotgunning?”

“Like, how you split open a beer and drink it? Or…”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “No. The weed term.”

Now it was Warren’s turn to laugh, though his chest still ached terribly after nearly suffocating. “I just had my first hit. What makes you think I know anything about this stuff?”

“Great. Then watch and learn.”

Warren watched with measured interest as Nathan took another pull. He figured that he was going to show off a dumb trick. Smoke rings or something, right? When he felt Nathan’s fingertips grace his neck, however, his breathing became erratic. Nathan was just centimeters away from him.

Nathan’s nose bumped against Warren’s as he parted his lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke into his mouth with an agonizing tenderness. Warren could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his heart jumping at his ribcage. Everything felt slow and hazy, like this was a wonderful dream that he never wanted to wake up from. His breath hitched in his throat as he inhaled, and he closed his eyes.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be.

Nathan pulled away after a moment, leaving Warren lost and dazed. Looking up through his eyelashes, he could see Nathan’s smug expression. What a tease.

Without missing a beat, Warren chased after him, closing the space between them. He ignored all of the alarms in his head, all of the red flags that commanded him to stop. He was kissing the most popular boy in school, who, to his knowledge, didn’t like guys. He was putty in Nathan Prescott’s hands. Warren fully prepared himself to be shoved away or to get his face stomped in, but the beating never came.

In that moment, Warren felt like one of the stars in his astronomy books. He felt like he was going to fizzle out and explode.

Feeling Nathan’s tongue run over his teeth, Warren shuddered, and he melted into his touch, grabbing at the collar of his varsity jacket. This was everything he had been lusting after, everything he had been fantasizing about. Never in a million years would he have imagined it actually happening.

Pulling away for air, Warren panted, cupping Nathan’s cheek. “Do you make out with every person you bully, or am I just lucky?” He asked, unable to contain his smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m stoned out of my fucking mind,” Nathan said. While he wasn’t smiling anymore, Warren could hear it in his voice.

“Do you think we have time to...continue this? Before someone comes in and catches us?”

Nathan leaned in to nibble at his earlobe, his free hand wandering to Warren’s bare chest. “Better make it quick,” he mumbled, his breath hot on his face.

Warren was more than okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to leave constructive criticism below.
> 
> my tumblr: @arcadiaoutcast


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